57. No Turning Back

CHAPTER 57

No Turning Back

ILEANA

The warmth is the first thing I notice, pulling me from the edges of sleep. It wraps around me, solid and steady, a weight I can’t ignore. My fingers shift against smooth skin, my body pressed against his like it belongs there.

Wren.

The memory hits me before I open my eyes. His hands gripping my hips, his body claiming mine, the words he whispered as he unraveled everything I thought I knew about myself. Heat floods my face, and between my legs aches.

I force myself to open my eyes. Moonlight spills across the room, and I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us. My leg draped over his. My cheek resting on his chest. His arm resting on my back, fingers splayed across my ass, holding me close, pressing me intimately against his side.

I shift slightly, stretching, and his grip tightens immediately.

“Don’t move.” His voice is low and rough.

I lift my head, and there he is, his gaze locked on mine in the dim light. His eyes track every flicker of emotion crossing my face. His arm tightens, pulling me closer, and tension builds between us.

“You didn’t leave.”

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You thought I would?”

I don’t answer, turning my face away, but his fingers find my jaw, tipping my head back toward him in his default gesture of demand.

“Look at me.” He waits until I meet his eyes. “You’re sore.” It’s not a question.

I swallow, embarrassment making it hard to speak. “I’m fine.”

He shifts beneath me, his hand skimming lower, stroking over the curve of my hip. “You’re lying. I can feel it. Every time you move, you flinch.”

I try to push away, but he doesn’t let me go. His grip tightens, and his other hand slides down my back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“Wren—”

“Let me take care of you.” His tone softens, but the steel beneath it remains. “You’ll feel better with my mouth on you.”

For a moment, I’m frozen. The intensity in his gaze, the heat in his voice. It’s too much, but at the same time, it isn’t enough.

“You don’t have to?—”

"I know I don't have to ..." He rolls, tumbling me to the mattress and comes down above me. "But I'm going to."

His hands stroke down my sides, pressing me into the mattress as his mouth trails along my jaw. “You’ll feel better when I’m done.”

Heat pools low in my stomach, tension coiling tighter with every touch. I should stop him. I should say something— anything —but I can’t find the words. My body arches instinctively beneath him, and his low chuckle sends a shiver down my spine.

“I knew you’d let me take care of you.” His voice is thick with dark satisfaction. “You just needed a little push.”

His mouth moves lower, tracing a slow path down my neck, over the marks he left last night. Each kiss stirs something deep inside me, a spark reigniting with every inch of skin his lips claim.

“Wren—” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, but it doesn’t matter because he ignores me.

Hands gripping my thighs, he parts them, while his lips trail over my collarbone, and down my chest. His tongue flicks over my nipple, drawing a gasp from me, and the ache in my body shifts into something deeper, something unbearable.

“You’re so responsive,” he says, almost to himself, his voice a low rumble. “Every sound you make … every way your body moves … it’s fucking addictive.”

I bite my lip, trying to muffle the next sound, but his gaze snaps up to mine.

“There’s no one but me to hear you. And I want to hear every fucking sound you make.”

I let the soft moan escape as his mouth moves lower, his hands gripping my thighs more firmly as he kisses a path down my stomach. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, and the tension in the room thickens.

“You’re perfect like this.”

He presses a kiss just above my pussy, his eyes never leaving mine, and then his tongue flicks out, drawing a strangled gasp from me. My hips jerk, but his hands hold me steady, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

The sensation is overwhelming, every stroke of his tongue sending shockwaves through me, and I can’t stop the sounds falling from my lips. He works me slowly, methodically, building the tension inside me with unrelenting precision.

“Wren, I?—”

He hums against me, the vibration making me cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets.

“Let go.” His voice is muffled against my skin. “I want to feel you come undone.”

His tongue circles my clit again, and my body arches off the bed, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. My breath catches, my muscles tensing, and then an orgasm crashes over me, blinding and all-consuming.

I sob his name, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me. He doesn’t stop, his mouth coaxing every last tremor from me until I’m completely spent, boneless and gasping.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten, and his eyes burn with dark satisfaction. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his smirk widening as he crawls back up the bed .

“I could do that all day long.”

I can’t respond, my body still shaking from aftershocks, my mind unable to form words. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and then pulls me against him, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Sleep. We’ll talk later.”

I don’t argue, too drained to resist, and let myself sink into the warmth of his body, my eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulls me under.

The next time I wake, the room is quieter. Warmth still surrounds me, though the steady rhythm of Wren’s breathing has changed. I blink, adjusting to the pale light seeping through the windows.

He’s awake, lying on his side, his hand tracing lazy patterns over the curve of my waist.

“You need to get home before they notice.”

I stay where I am for a moment longer, letting the heat of his body seep into mine, before pulling away with a sigh.

He moves, sitting upright and swinging his legs off the bed. I watch, tongue snaking over my lips as he walks across the room, completely naked, and bends to pick up a pile of folded clothes from the chair by the wall. Sweatpants, my sneakers, and a black hoodie that looks impossibly large.

“Put these on.”

“When did you?—”

“I got them last night while you were sleeping.”

I take them, pulling the hoodie over my head first. It smells like him, woodsy and clean, and when it settles around me, I feel a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability. The sweatpants are a little loose, but I make them work. Once I'm dressed, he takes my hand, and leads me through the house, to where his car is parked outside.

He doesn’t say a word when he opens the passenger door for me. The door closes softly once I’m inside, and a moment later, he’s in the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life.

The hum of the car is the only sound as he drives, the streets eerily quiet in the soft light of early morning. My fingers fidget in my lap. I sneak a glance at him. His jaw is tight, his eyes locked on the road, one hand resting casually on the wheel.

He slows the car to a stop just down the street from my building. The early morning light casts everything in muted gray tones. His fingers tap the wheel, his focus fixed on the apartment, his jaw tight.

“You’ll confront them.” It’s not a suggestion.

I nod. “I will. I have to.”

His hand reaches across the console, his fingers curling under my chin. He tips my head toward him. “No backing out. No hiding. You’ll look them in the eye and make them tell you everything.”

His intensity grounds me, strengthening my resolve. “I’ll do it.”

For a moment, he just watches me, then he nods. “Good.”

I reach for the door handle, but his voice halts me again. “Wait.”

Before I can ask why, he’s out of the car, rounding the hood in two strides. He opens my door, holding out a hand to help me out. His touch is possessive, his fingers wrapping around mine as he pulls me to my feet.

“Wren—”

“I’m walking you to your window.” He doesn’t wait for me to argue, his grip firm as he guides me along the sidewalk.

The building looms ahead, familiar yet foreign now, every step toward it weighed down by the truth he’s revealed. When we reach my window, he turns to me, his gaze searing into mine.

“You’re sure about this?” His voice softens just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“I have to do it.” My words are steady despite the nerves twisting in my stomach.

He nods once, his hand moving to my waist. “Get up.”

Before I can react, he lifts me effortlessly, setting me on the sill. His hands don’t leave me, his body pressed against mine as he steadies me. The air between us shifts, thick with tension.

“You’re mine. Don’t forget that. No matter what they tell you, no matter how they try to spin it. You belong to me.”

I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips crash against mine. The kiss is hard, consuming, his fingers digging into my hips as if he’s trying to anchor me to him. My hands clutch his shoulders for balance, my heart pounding against my ribs.

When he pulls back, his eyes burn into mine. “I’ll see you at school.”

I climb through the window, the familiar chill of my room pressing against my skin. My feet hit the floor, and I turn to lock the window.

Behind me, a lamp clicks on.

James—the man I thought was my father—sits at my desk, his face carved from stone.

“Where have you been?”